IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


/. 


>.<^ 


1.0 


1.1 


■i>  Hi    122 

■  Hi   ^ 
S  Hi   12.0 


•«l 


|I25|,U|,.6 

^_ ^ _ 

_     4" 

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WtST  MAIN  SYRBET 

WIBSTCR.N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


4^ 


Lo- 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Coliection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  institute  for  Historical  IMicroreproductions  /  institut  canadisn  d»  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliograc  n  quaa 


T 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibiiographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


□    Colourad  covara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I    Covara  damagad/ 


D 


D 
D 

n 

D 
D 


D 


Couvartura  andommagia 


Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raataurte  at/ou  palliculAa 


□   Covar  titia  miaaing/ 
La 


titra  da  couvartura  manqua 


Colourad  mapa/ 

Cartaa  gAographiquaa  9n  cdulaur 


D 


Colourad  inic  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noi 

Colourad  plataa  and/or  illuatrationa/ 
Planchaa  at/ou  illuatrationa  an  coulaur 


Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
Rail*  avac  d'autraa  documanta 

Tight  binding  may  cauaa  ahadowa  or  diatortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

La  re  liura  sarria  paut  cauaar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatorsion  la  long  da  la  marge  intiriaura 

Blank  laavas  addad  during  raatoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whanavar  poaaibla.  thaaa 
hava  baan  omittad  from  filming/ 
II  aa  paut  qua  cartainaa  pagaa  blanchaa  ajoutiaa 
lora  d'una  raatauration  apparaiaaant  dana  la  taxta, 
mala,  loraqua  cala  Atait  poaaibla.  caa  pagaa  n'ont 
paa  iti  filmtes. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commantairaa  supplimantairaa: 


L'Inatitut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  axamplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  M  poaaibla  da  aa  procurar.  Las  details 
da  cat  axamplaira  qui  sent  paut-Atra  uniquas  du 
point  da  vua  bibliographiqua.  qui  pauvvnt  modifiar 
una  imaga  raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  axigar  una 
modification  dana  la  mithoda  normala  da  filmaga 
aont  indiqute  ci-daaaoua. 

□   Colourad  pagaa/ 
Pagaa  da  coulaur 

□   Pagaa  damagad/ 
Pagaa  andommagtes 

I — ^  j    Pagaa  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 


D 


Pagaa  raataurd^  at/ou  palliculias 

Pagaa  diacolourad,  Ktainad  or  foxad/ 
Pagaa  dicolorias.  tachatias  ou  piqudas 


/I    Pagaa  datachad/ 
zJ   Pagaa  ditachtes 

rri    Showthrough/ 


Tranaparanca 

Quality  of  prin 

Qualiti  inigaia  da  I'imprassion 

Includea  supplamantary  matarii 
Comprand  du  matArial  supplimantaira 

Only  adition  availabia/ 
Saula  Mition  diaponibia 


r~1    Quality  of  print  varias/ 

I     I   Includea  supplamantary  matarial/ 

I     I    Only  adition  availabia/ 


Pagaa  wholly  or  ^c.  :!2lly  obscurad  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pages  totalement  ou  partiallement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  una  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  it6  film^es  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
abtanir  la  mailleure  image  possible. 


T 

P 
o 

fl 


G 

b 

tl 

a 

0 

fl 
a 
o 


1 
a 
1 

V 

d 
fl 

I: 

r 
r 


Thia  item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  checked  below  ^ 

Ce  document  est  filmi  au  taux  da  riduction  indiqu*  ci-daasous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

atx 

30X 

^ 

12X 


ItX 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


Th«  copy  film«d  h«r«  hat  lM«n  r«produc«cl  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  Univarsity 


L'axamplaira  filnv*  fut  raproduit  grica  i  (a 
g6nirosit*  da: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  Univarsity 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  consPdaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  Icaaping  with  tha 
f  lining  contract  spacif  ieationa. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impras- 
sion,  or  tha  bacic  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copias  ara  fiimad  baglnning  on  tha 
first  paga  wKh  a  printad  or  llluatratad  Impraa- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illustratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — ^>  ( moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  y  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appiias. 

Maps,  platas,  charts,  ate,  may  ba  fiimad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  iarga  to  ba 
antiraly  included  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  fiimad 
beginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  4tA  raproduites  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  de  ia  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  rexemplaire  filmA,  et  en 
conformit*  avac  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fllmaga. 

Lee  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sent  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  la  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  Is 
darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreealon  ou  d'lllustration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  aalon  Ic  caa.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAt  en  commengant  par  la 
pramlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'lllustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
darnlAre  Image  de  chaqu^  nicrofiche.  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifie  "A  SUiVRE",  le 
symbols  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fiimts  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  film*  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  ii  droite, 
et  de  haut  an  baa,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Let  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrant  la  mAthoda. 


r    4...,, 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

>^«-»'^»'_i*i'l!.v^v*  . 


^     -f 


''5#;.' 


^Cr.^ 


C-'  e^iPsr^'^? 


i 


W'^ 


ODDS  AND  ENDS. 


iS     '!:,■■   ■-,*■ 


,^lii|:/    i'i 


:    V 


■ 


/ 


ODDS    AND    ENDS; 


1 


ORIGINAL  AND  TRANSLATED. 


BY   ROBERT  SWEENY. 


"  Trifiea  light  aa  air."' 


NEW-YORK: 
HEMRY  I.  MEGAREY,  BROADWAY. 

1826. 


Tf 


W^f 


a 


PS  S>1i-JiO<^^ 


$i 


:.g(l/:  M     4.fL 


1  ^'-i  t 


V 


-  .J    ..If-      »  ,■ 


;i  ■•^. "' 


Clayton  &  Van  Nordeu,  PrinterB. 


\ 

\ 


\ 


^ 


m$0 


TO 


THE  HONORABLE 


\ 


HENRY  DILKES  BYNG, 

CAPTAIN,  ROYAL  NAVY, 

f  HE  FOKLOWINO  PACKS  ARE  ISSCRIBED,  AS  A  SMALL,  BUT 
SINCERE  TRIBUTE  OF  ESTEEM. 


3oSUS'^0 


■. 


% 


■ijA& ;.   ,-^.^:,:„ 


t  t 


p  — ■»■■■■■    »     "^1  I 


OOirTBlTTS. 


■ 


Page 

The  Girl  I  left  behind  me, 11 

Land, 13 

Here*a  to  the  eye  of  sparkling  blue, 16 

To  Clio, 18 

Hove  him  now  no  more, 90 

Sememberest  thou  our  morning  sky, 32 

Home, 25 

Love  and  the  Swallow, 26 

Adieu, 28 

Tempua  fugit, 30 

To  Mary, 31 

Anacreontic, 3* 

The  Pilgrim  returning  from  Mecca's  shrine, 36 

Anacreontic, 38 

Talk  not  of  parting  yet, 40 

My  Country, * 43 

The  Soldier's  grave 43 

Oh,  dinnaturn  awa',  .    .    .    , 46 

Say  not  life  is  a  waste  of  gloom, 48 

Isabel, 50 

Nay,  dream  not  that  time  can  unri  vet 52 


..*-*is»«w«-«*KZ'^ 


wmm 


•  •  • 
VUl 

Pagt 

'Tis  not  whon  tlio  brow  ii  bright, 55 

The  moon  ii  travelling  through  thobky, 56 

Toujoura  tidelle, 5T 

Why  ghould'at  thou  think  my  heart  is  changed,      .     .     .     .  fiO 

She  U  gone  to  the  place  of  her  rest, 62 

Sacred  Melody, 64 

Pensees, 6o 

Where  are  the  kings  of  former  tiinei, 6" 

Sacred  Melody, ^ 

The  Rose  thot  buds  and  blooms, 70 

'Tis  long  since  we  have  met, '* 

Though  the  cold  hand  of  sickness, "74 

Young  Love,  one  eve,  with  bosom  light, 76 

Fill  uptlie  bowl, 78 

Anacreontic, 81 

Faro  thee  well, 82 

Dear  Mary,  check  that  rising  sigh, '84 

rd  wish  to  bo, 87 

If  you  love,  dear,  oh  breathe  not  a  word, SO 

Woman, 92 

Auld  Robin  Gray, 

Fancy  not,  dear,  lean  e'er  forget, 

Oh  this  is  love, 

Stanzas, 

Adele, 


100 


102 


104 


Cuish 


100 


Page 

To   , jjjg 

tivreet  ittroanilct, 109 

When  flritt  we  mot,       ujj 

Think  not,  doaroHt, •     •    .  114 

To  my  Carrier  Dove, hq 

When  the  poor  Pilgrim  bent  with  pain, 118 

I  iaw  two  young  ro§e  trees, ]20 

Love  blooina  upon  thy  cheeii  so  fair, 122 

When  the  bee  neglects  to  sip, 124 

The  days  are  gone, iSQ 

The  Ring 130 

The  Portrait, 131 

Oh,  truer  is  the  courtier's  tear, 132 

Ah,  wherefore  reprove , 135 

Ladies,  good  bye, 138 

Madrigal, 140 

Madrigal, 141 

Triolet I40 

Triolet I43 

Epitophs, 144 

Epigrams, 148 

To  Julia, 152 

To  the  Butterfly, 153 

Forget  me  not, 154 

To  my  Lyre, 15-) 


I 


mmsc:: 


:  I 


THE  GIRL  I  LEFT  BEHIND  ME. 


Written  off  the  CoMt  of  Ireland,  1818. 


Land  of  my  youth— that  far  away      ] 

Amid  the  wave's  commotion, 
Now  glances  to  the  sun's  last  ray, 

A  speck  upon  the  ocean.       ,    . 
Land  of  my  youth,  where'er  1  roam,  ] 

What  lot  soe'er  assign'd  me, 
Still,  still  I'll  love  the  stranger's  home, 

And  the  Girl  I  left  behind  me.  ^ 


12 

At  evening,  when  with  richest  dye, 

The  god  of  day  is  seiting, 
How  can  I  look  on  the  western  sky, 

The  isle  of  the  west  forgetting ! 
And  when  I  view  morn's  glowing  streak. 

Of  what  shall  it  remind  me, 
But  the  rosy  hlush  that  o'erspreads  the  cheek 

Of  the  Girl  I  left  behind  me  ? 


Ii 


I 


Swift  bounds  our  ship — the  favouring  breeze 

Blows  stronger  now  and  stronger  ; 
And  now  the  keen-eyed  seaman  sees 

My  native  hills  no  longer. 
Oh,  Erin,  when — life's  struggle  o'er — 

Near  man's  long  rest  I  find  me, 
My  parting  breath  shall  bless  thy  shore, 

And  the  Girl  I  left  behind  me. 


mm 


$ 


13 


LAND. 


It  was  a  gallant  ship 

From  England's  coast  that  sail'd ; 
But  tedious  was  the  trip, 

And  every  store  had  faiPd. 
No  hopes  of  life  were  given, 

No  rescue  was  at  hand ; 
Each  eye  was  fix'd  on  heaven, 

Each  heart  on  Land. 

2 


i 


14 


Nor  longer  toilM  the  crew — 

But  some  sat  pale  with  grief, 
And  some  half  listless  grew, 

Impatient  of  relief ; 
Some  rav'd  in  wild  despair ; 

Some  stood  by  fear  unmanned ; 
Somegaz'd  on  vacant  air, 

And  mutterM,  Land. 


i 


There  sprang  a  gentle  breeze 

As  daylight  died  away, 
And  through  the  glowing  seas 

The  vessel  cut  her  way. 
With  hopeless  breast  aloft 

The  seaboy  took  his  stand, 
And  o'er  the  waters  oft 

Look'd  out  for  Land. 


t 


15 

But  long  it  mock'd  his  gaze, 

Till  through  the  starless  night 
The  beacon's  warning  blaze 

Burst  on  his  rapturM  sight. 
Loud,  loud  the  urchin  cried, 

As  the  blest  ray  he  scannM  j 
And  the  faint  crew  replied, 

Echoing,  Land. 

Oh,  how  that  shout  arose. 

Soft,  sweet,  amid  the  gloom  ! 
It  spoke  of  balm  to  woes, 

Deliverance  from  the  tomb. 
Grief,  doubt,  despair  and  fear 

Forsook  the  joyous  band, 
As,  with  a  grateful  tear, 

They  welcom'd  Land. 


# 


16 


HERE'S  TO  THE  EYE  OF  SPARKLING  BLUE. 


Here's  to  the  eye  of  sparkling  blue, 

Here's  to  the  breast  with  feeling  warm'd ; 
The  cheek  as  blooming,  the  heart  as  true, 

As  man  e'er  worshipped,  or  heaven  ere  form'd. 
Here's  to  the  auburn  locks  that  twine 

Their  ringlets  around  thy  brow  of  snow ; 
And  here's  to  the  magic  glance  of  thine. 
That  can  heighten  pleasure  or  banish  wo. 


r' 


I 


:,'    fUj-    . 


17 

They  may  tell  us  of  planets  with  moons  more  bright, 

And  suns  more  splendid  than  those  we  have  here ; 
But  while  stars  like  thee  illumine  our  night, 

Oh,  who  could  wish  for  a  brighter  sphere  ? 
lliey  may  say  that  man  is  the  child  of  grief. 

But  never  shall  we  such  charge  allow, 
When  from  fortune's  scowl  we  can  seek  relief 

In  the  smile  of  beings  so  pure  as  thou. 


>^i 


I 


They  may  preach  that  by  penance  alone,  and  by  fast, 

Must  the  soul  from  the  dross  of  this  world  be  refin'd ; 
But  'twere  folly  to  suffer  regret  for  the  past, 

To  tarnish  the  moments  still  left  behind. 
Then  be  ever  as  now,  nor  let  sorrow  fling 

Its  cold  cloud  o'er  thee  while  youth's  thine  own  : 
Remember,  life's  roses,  like  those  of  spring, 

Will  wither  the  soonest  when  fullest  blown. 

2* 


IB 


TO  CLIO. 


If  now  1113'  nights  be  void  of  rest, 
They  were  not  always  spent  in  care  : 

If  now  affliction  rule  my  breast, 
It  did  not  always  rankle  there. 


There  was  a  time — long,  long  ago, 

When  my  bright  moments  seem'd  to  fly : 
But  now  they  move  so  dark  and  slow, 

They  almost  pause  in  passing  by. 

There  was  a  time  when  free  1  rang'd 
Thro'  life's  serenest  paths — ^but  now^ 


i^ 


19 

All,  all  who  lov'd  me  once  are  changM, 
And  all  have  fled  but  only  thou. 

Well,  they  may  change— nor  shall  the  pain 
I  else  might  feel,  affect  my  heart, 

If  thou  amid  the  wreck  remain, 

Dear,  pure  and  bright  as  now  thou  art : 

Dear  as  the  beam  that  shines  to  save— - 
Pure  as  the  evening's  parting  light- 
Bright  as  the  sparkles  on  the  wave. 
When  all  around  is  cloth'd  in  night. 


V 


nafW^*"-' 


20 


I  LOVE  HIM  NOW  WO  MORE. 


He  vow'd  for  me  alone  to  live, 

He  swore  to  love  me,  and  deceived  : 
I  knew  'twas  folly  to  believe, 

Yet,  like  a  lover,  I  believed. 
But  I  have  felt  his  perfidy, 

And  I  have  prov'd  how  false  he  swore 
No  more  his  vows  have  charms  for  me, 

I  love  him  now  no  more,  oh  no, 

I  love  him  now  p.o  more. 


Should  chance  at  times  across  my  way 
The  footsteps  of  th'  inconstant  guide. 


ft 


21 

I  turn  in  haste,  lest  I  betray 

The  feelings  which  1  fain  would  hide : 
For  still  unconsciously  1  sigh, 

And  still  my  cheek  is  crimson'd  o'er ; 
I  watch  him  with  admiring  eye, 
But  love  him  now  no  more,  oh  no, 


l^lovehimnow  no  more. 


Here  is  the  billet  kept  with  care, 

In  which  he  callM  me  first  his  love  -, 
And  here  the  little  braid  of  hair 

Which  once  in  playful  mood  I  wove. 
How  soon  those  moments  pass'd  away ! 

Oh,  could  they  wear,  as  once  they  wore, 
Their  smiles  but  for  a  single  day— 
But  no— I  love  no  more,  oh  no, 
I  love  him  now  no  more. 


22 


remembp:rest  thou  our  morning  sk\ 


Hememberest  thou  our  morning  sky, 

Ere  clouds  had  overcast, 
When  each  new  sun  that  flitted  by 

Seem'd  brighter  than  the  last : 
When,  tho'  some  clouds  might  gather  there, 

And  tho'  some  drops  might  flow, 
Still  those  were  not  the  clouds  of  care, 

Nor  these  the  drops  of  wo  ? 


23 

oft  do  I  muse  vt'iih  fond  delight 

On  all  that  cheerM  me  then, 
And  in  the  shadowy  dreams  of  night, 

Live  o'er  those  days  again  : 
And  oft  in  memory's  glass,  as  now, 

Thy  passing  form  I  see ; 
As  sweet  thy  smile,  as  calm  thy  brow 

As  they  were  wont  to  be. 


And  as  I  gaze,  and  dread  to  pari 

With  what  is  fancy  all, 
Oh,  many  a  sigh  would  rend  my  heart. 

And  many  a  tear  would  fall — 
But  that  so  true  thy  charms  appear. 

'Twere  pity,  ere  they  die, 
To  stain  the  mirror  with  a  tear, 

Or  dim  it  with  a  sigh. 


n 


24 

Peace  be  to  thee,  who  shin'st  as  far 

Above  the  vulgar  crowd, 
As  yonder  solitary  star^ 

O'er  every  passing  cloud. 
Peace  be  to  thee — may  virtue's  rays 

Long,  long  thy  path  adorn, 
And  may  the  evening  of  thy  days 

Be  pure  as  was  their  morn. 


25 


HOME. 


When  far  from  thee,  my  native  isle, 
Along  the  Diamond  Cape  I  roam. 

Though  grand  the  scene — my  heart  the  while 
Loves  hest  the  heath-clad  hills  at  home 

And  when  upon  that  hright  cape's  side 
I  view  the  great  Saint  Lawrence  foam. 

My  heart  prefers  the  simple  tide 
That  laves  its  pebbly  bed  at  home. 


Quebec, 


3 


.tfl^^ 


"V^ 


„v..> 


26 


LOVE  AND  THE  SWALLOW. 


When  summer  foliage  glitters, 

And  summer  suns  are  bright, 
The  Swallow  round  us  twitters, 

And  sports  him  in  their  light. 
But  when  the  blast  has  o'er  them  past, 

And  summer  suns  grow  dim, 
Away  he  flies  to  brighter  skies — 

'Tis  summer  still  with  him. 


27 

And  Love  is  like  the  Swallow : — 

When  beauty's  brow  is  gay, 
Her  glittering  train  he'll  follow, 

And  sport  him  in  the  ray. 
But  when  the  frost  of  age  has  crost 

The  splendour  of  her  eyes, 
He  spreads  his  wings,  and  off  he  springs 

In  search  of  brighter  skies. 


Those  summer  suns  reburning, 

Will  gild  the  landscape  o'er ; 
The  Swallow  then  returning, 

Will  twitter  as  before. 
And  will  not  Love,  where'er  he  rove, 

To  gain  his  cage  endeavour  ? 
No,  no — when  he  once  wanders  free, 

Good-bye  to  him  for  ever. 


28 


ADIEU. 


Adieu  to  thee,  so  fond  and  fair ; 

Adieu  to  thee  for  whom  alone 
This  breast  could  beat,  but  it  must  bear 

The  trial  firmly  as  thine  own. 
Adieu  to  thee,  so  fond  and  fair, 

'Tis  peace  of  mind  whichbidsmeshun  thy  view 
Adieu,  adieu. 


Adieu — ^perhaps  for  life  we  part- 
Adieu — ^perhaps  for  but  a  day ; 


And  still  shall  friendship  rule  the  heart 
Which  love  for  thee  must  never  sway. 

Adieu — perhaps  for  life  we  part — 

Till  thou  the  flame  that  wastes  us  canst  subdue, 
Adieu,  adieu. 

Adieu — I  speak  it  with  regret — 

Adieu — my  pen  has  trac'd  the  word ; 

My  soul  was  wavering  even  yet, 
When  from  my  lips  its  doom  was  heard. 

Adieu — 1  speak  it  with  regret, 
But  1  must  fly  from  these  dear  scenes  and  you  i 
Adieu,  adieu. 


S* 


Ji.,.f~.^.^f::;, 


30 


TEMPUS  FUGIT. 


Less  constant  than  the  wind  or  wave. 
For  these  their  proper  limits  have, 

The  stream  of  time  rolls  on ; 
The  wind  resumes  its  former  track, 
The  wave  flows  in  its  channel  back, 

But  time's  for  ever  g'^ne, 

*  ■ 

Why  ponder  then  on  future  ill, 
Or  dream  of  past  enjoyment  still  / 

Let's  taste  the  present  hours ; 
And  if  this  world,  as  sages  say, 
Be  but  to  other  worlds  the  way, 

Let's  strew  the  way  with  flow'rs. 


'-■,-*»»i"«*"W*ti*.-  -r^ivm*-- 


31 


TO  MARY. 


Oh  Mary,  life  has  been,  dear, 

A  waste  since  last  I  met  thee  ; 
And  all  that  I  have  seen,  dear, 

But  makes  me  more  regret  thee. 
While  round  me  flies  the  social  bowl, 

And  all  is  mirth  and  glee,  love, 
I  turn  aside  with  sickening  soul 

To  think  on  home  and  thee,  love. 


V 


32 


V 


When  morn's  first  beam  is  breaking 

Upon  the  eastern  billow, 
From  frenzied  dreams  awaking, 

I  leave  my  restless  pillow. 
But  ah,  from  memory's  pangs  away 

In  vain  I  strive  to  flee,  love  ; 
Where'er  I  rove — by  night,  by  day — 

My  thoughts  are  all  on  thee,  love. 

Oh  Mary,  ere  we  parted, 

Nor  grief  nor  care  had  known  me  ; 
But  now,  sad,  broken  hearted. 

Even  thou  might'st  well  disown  me. 
Tho'  thousand  beauties  meet  my  eye, 

Yet  what  are  they  to  me,  love  ? 
Unprais'd,  unmark'd,  I  pass  them  by — 

My  thoughts  are  still  on  thee,  love. 


■j0tfir'^»^llii*>'^''^>^Ma^fi;r^ 


,,«lrfr'^(ta!i«»~«^ 


33 

Pve  been  upon  the  ocean 

When  every  wave  was  sleeping ; 
When  with  slow,  sluggish  motion, 

Our  bark  her  way  was  keeping : 
I've  seen  the  tempest's  dreaded  form, 

Dark  brooding  o'er  the  sea,  love  ; 
And  in  the  calm,  or  'mid  the  storm, 

My  thoughts  were  all  on  thee,  love. 


How  swift  the  hours  seem'd  winging 

When  sweet  affection  bound  us ! 
Each  day,  each  moment,  bringing 

The  friends  we  lov'd  around  us. 
Those  friends  are  far — those  days  are  gone- 

And  gone  no  more  to  be,  love  ; 
But  still  while  time  rolls  darkly  on, 

I  think  on  them  and  thee,  love. 


34 


,  /  f  1  ■ ;. 


.ii;i'*,. 


^/.c  ,  .. 


.»  » :j   %:  3,\  '■  I 


r:  AUtr  ii-jiif! 


I  WISH  to  live,  remote  from  strife,  a 

A  life  of  ease  and  pleasure ;    ff 
So  strove  to  find  what  sort  of  life     2 

Affords  the  greatest  measure. 
I  ask'd  th'  opinion  of  mj  friends, 

Love,  Bacchus,  and  Apollo  : 
But  each  a  different  course  commends, 

And  which  do  you  think  I  follow  ? 


1 


35 

Love  bids  me  pay  my  homage  still 
To  beauty  night  and  morning, 

And  Bacchus  hiccups  "  drink  thy  fill, 
i      A  fig  for  woman's  scorning ;"    ;ij : 

Apollo  hints  that  nought  but  song 
The  wings  of  time  can  cripple; 

So,  just  to  please  them,  all  day  long 
T  love,  and  sing,  and  tipple. 


■i*>*jr#,'i,.v^/'  ''/'■"' 


■»/'  /Vi.. 


1'^; 


■:n>iv"-l    ■!:>f?r;.^      Vt,;      -'rf     '-J-V^J    ,;j'     '>  ^  ' - 


'-)  •"■    '   .-.•  .:■•■  r,.:) 


..W-.- 


,,!^"^*16- 


^■^*=S3Jij^,4y* 


36 


.1 


s, ' 


I"J    ,.r    ■{:•':  '.;■     ! 


I  (  " 


'■•'>'  !'.  '    *f?  -'.n  viTT,  .>;■'  >>V 


» "        I . 


.■■\^  If  I 


')    J    f  5   *' 


THE  PILGRIM  RETURNING  FROM  MECCA'S 


SHRINE. 


«  I 


l.i. 


The  Pilgrim,  returning  from  Mecca's  shrine, 

Still  bears  to  his  home  away 
Some  relic  to  keep  by  its  power  divine 

His  footsteps  from  turning  astray. 
But  not  the  richest  display  of  art, 

Nor  the  rarest  relic  could  be 
More  dear  to  that  Pilgrim  wanderer's  heart, 

Than  this  lock  of  thy  hair  to  me. 


■  .ws-iJP^^flWl'-  -,. 


<    - 


37 


The  seaman  whose  ship  for  a  moment  veers 

From  the  track  of  her  destinM  shore, 
But  looks  to  the  star,  by  which  he  steers, 

And  it  leads  to  his  course  once  more. 
So,  should  I  forget  thee  an  instant,  and  e'er 

Withdraw  me  from  virtue  then, 
I'll  but  look  on  this  simple  tress  of  thy  hair, 

And  turn  to  her  paths  again. 


38 


ANACREONTIC. 


Give  me  wine  and  give  me  love, 
What  can  rank  those  joys  above  ? 
When  the  heart  grows  cold  to  bliss. 

.  How  shall  we  its  fire  renew  ? 
Warm  it  then  with  woman's  kiss, 
Bathe  it  with  the  goblet's  dew 
Give  me  wine  and  give  me  love, 
What  r^n  rank  those  joys  above  ? 


39 


Give  me  love  and  give  me  wine, 
Both  are  dear  and  both  divine ; 
This  can  rouse  us — that  can  tame- 
Lover,  drunkard,  time  about, 
With  the  one  1  raise  a  flame, 
With  the  other  put  it  out. 
Give  me  love  and  give  me  wine, 
Both  are  dear  and  both  divine. 


40 


TALK  NOT  OF  PARTING  YET. 


i.f  - 


Talk  not  of  parting  yet, 

While  rapture  holds  its  sway ; 
Nor  tinge  those  moments  with  regret, 

That  flit  so  swift  away. 
There's  not  a  cloud  to-night 

Betwixt  us  and  the  moon, 
And  the  stars  are  hright,  thy  path  to  lights 

Then  wherefore  part  so  soon  ? 
Talk  not  of  parting  yet, 

But  let  us,  while  we  may, 
The  cold  unfeeling  world  forget ; 


'Tis  ne'er  too  late  to 


say, 


I 


Adieu. 


41 

Talk  not  of  parting  yet, 

While  every  thought  is  bliss  ; 
Oh  why  should  time  his  limits  set 

To  hours  so  sweet  as  this  ! 
There's  not  a  zephyr  near 

To  chill  thy  gentle  brow  ; 
Nor  can  thine  ear  a  murmur  hear, 

Save  his  who  whispers  now, 
Talk  not  of  parting  yet, 

But  stay — one  moment  stay — 
'Twere  better  never  to  have  met 

Than  thus  so  soon  to  say, 

Adieu. 


4* 


,"» .ii».^%  - 


,.  ^%^<. 


i 


42 


MY  COUNTRY. 


She  pledgM  her  faith,  she  broke  the  phghted  vow, 
And  there  is  nothing  left  but  to  forget  her ; 

'Twas  but  with  her  that  life  was  sweet — and  now 
Not  long  will  death  permit  me  to  regret  her. 

My  Country,  thou  shalt  be  my  only  bride, 

Thou  wilt  be  true,  though  all  are  false  beside. 


i      ;  '■ 


New  oaths  shall  bind  me  soon  than  those  of  love  : 
And  if  a  fickle  girl  could  once  deceive  me, 

Now,  while  my  country's  banner  waves  above, 
Glory  at  least  will  never,  never  leave  me. 

My  Country,  thou  art  now  my  only  bride, 

Thou  wilt  be  true  when  all  are  false  beside. 


% 


A 


-- ■  * .   . 


43 


THE  SOLDIER'S  GRAVE. 


I  STOOD  where  commenceth  the  Christian's  pride, 
And  the  world's  poor  pageant  closeth ; 

Where  prince  and  peasant  lie  side  by  side, 
And  foe  v/ith  foe  reposeth.  ^ 

1  stood  at  the  grave — the  grave  where  lay, 
By  its  kindred  earth-worms  courted, 

The  dust  of  him,  who  but  yesterday 
In  life's  gayest  sunbeam  sported. 


With  fame  as  spotless,  and  spirit  as  light 
As  the  plume  on  his  helmet  dancing ; 


44 

And  wit  as  keen,  and  honour  as  bright, 
As  the  steel  from  his  scabbard  glancing. 

And  fast  fell  the  tears  of  vain  regret 
For  the  true  and  the  gallant-hearted. 

As  I  thought  on  the  hour  when  first  we  met. 
And  the  moment  when  last  we  parted. 

The  moon  from  cloud  to  silvery  cloud 
O'er  the  azure  vault  was  stealing. 

With  soften'd  charms  from  beneath  her  shroud 
Her  pure,  pallid  form  revealing. 

So  the  vestal  beams,  when — a  stranger  nigh — 

She  drops  with  reluctant  duty 
The  veil  which  shadows  her  flashing  eye, 

But  which  cannot  conceal  its  beauty. 


i 


j-f^' 


•■»v.»B->tf 


45 

And  still  as  she  pass'd,  and  her  ray  so  bright 
She  threw  where  the  warrior  lay  sleeping, 

She  seemM  to  my  fancy  a  spirit  of  light, 
Her  watch  o'er  the  dear  turf  keeping. 


Peace  to  thine  ashes,  young,  generous,  brave- 
Fallen  in  the  prime  of  thy  glory  ; 

Thy  country's  sorrow  shall  hallow  thy  grave, 
And  thy  name  shall  live  in  her  story. 


ftl* 


46 


OH,  DINNA  TURN  AW  A'. 


Oh  dinna  turn  awa', 

And  leave  me  thus  to  pine ; 
My  cot,  my  gear,  I'd  barter  a' 

For  ae  sweet  smile  o'  thine. 
Though  lairds  hae  sought  thy  han', 

We  should  na  therefore  part ; 
For  lairds  may  offer  mair  o'  Ian', 

But  nae  sae  true  a  heart. 

Then  dinna  turn  awa'. 


VP"  I  f^~.  p 


I 


47 

Thine  e'c  will  lose  its  power — 

Thy  cheek  will  lose  its  hue  ; 
Thy  laird  will  seek  a  fairer  flower, 

And  bid  thee,  love,  adieu. 
Though  humble  as  my  sang, 

I  boast  a  purer  flame ; 
For  years  hae  pass'd — may  pass  alfing- 

Thou'lt  find  me  aye  the  same. 

Then  dinna  turn  awa'. 


#  I 


-iff- .---♦■--■  T^y-^iy.-- 


48 


\^i 


Ll' 


^ 


SAY  NOT  LIFE  IS  A  WASTE  OF  GLOOM. 


Say  not  life  is  a  waste  of  gloom, 
Where  no  stars  break  forth,  and  no  flow' rets  bloom. 
If  the  stars  that  have  lighted 

Thy  path  be  gone, 
If  the  flowers  be  blighted 
That  round  thee  shone, 
Come  then,  dearest,  come  unto  me, 
I'll  be  the  stars  and  the  flowers  to  thee. 


VWpavMBaMi^iMMVSBiiqVMa 


49 

^ay  not  love  in  thy  soul  is  o'er, 

Or  that  friendship  never  can  charm  thee  more. 

If  the  voice  that  could  waken 
Love's  thrill  be  at  rest, 

And  if  death  have  taken 

The  friend  of  thy  breast, 
Come  then,  dearest,  come  unto  me, 
ril  be  the  lover,  the  friend  to  thee. 


5 


50 


ISABEL. 


The  sword  was  sheath'd — the  war  was  o'er- 

And  soon  beyond  the  western  main 
Again  I  trod  my  native  shore, 

I  breath'd  my  native  air  again. 
T  reach'd  my  own  beloved  bower, 

Where  every  flower  possess'd  a  spell 
To  bind  my  heart — for  every  flower 

Reminded  me  of  Isabel. 


>'l»  ■   I  "  '  r»*0— »■<>— 


51 

The  roses  still  as  brightly  bloom'd 

As  when  mine  eye  beheld  them  last ; 
As  sweet  the  violet  perfiim'd 

The  wings  of  zephyr  as  he  pass'd  ; 
The  streamlet  flow'd  as  softly  now 

As  in  those  days  remember'd  well ; 
The  very  breeze  that  fann'd  my  brow. 

Itseem'd  to  breathe  of  Isal  cl. 

And  where  was  she  ? — I  saw  her  not — 

Alas,  I  ne'er  can  see  her  there  ! 
Time,  which  had  spar'd  that  fairy  spot. 

Had  blighted  all  that  made  it  fair. 
For  this,  for  this  the  world  I  spurn'd, 

And  bade  its  once  lov'd  scenes  farewell 
On  Heaven  alone  my  thoughts  are  turn'd. 

My  heart  is  still  with  Isabel. 


52 


NAY,  DREAM  NOT  THAT  TIME  CAN  UNRIVET. 


Nay,  dream  not  that  time  can  unrivet 

The  chains  which  afifection  hath  twin'd  ; 
Or  that  love,  like  the  vane  on  its  pivot, 

Will  twirl  with  each  changeable  wind. 
Though  sunder'd  and  sad  we  move  on,  love. 

Yet  heart  still  is  coupled  to  heart, 
And  the  cords  but  the  firmer  are  drawn,  love, 

I'he  further  we  journey  apart. 


•xfaMMfB-V^Mla 


««»»■-«— wy Ml.  iw  imi 


r. 


53 

The  beacon  is  dear  to  the  seaman, 

Which  guides  him  across  the  dark  sea  ; 
And  liberty's  dear  to  the  freeman, 

But  thou  art  still  dearer  to  me. 
Thine  accents  of  peace,  wert  thou  nigh,  love, 

Like  balm  on  my  spirit  would  fall ; 
Not  a  cloud  should  then  darken  my  sky,  love, 

Thy  kind  glance  would  scatter  them  all. 


Some  breasts  are  like  sand  in  the  river, 

Where  every  form  we  may  trace. 
While  as  quickly  its  ripples  for  ever 

Those  short-liv'd  impressions  efface. 
But  mine's  like  the  stubborn  rock,  love. 

Engraved  with  o?ie  image  so  fair ; 
And  the  surge  and  the  tempest's  rude  shock,  love, 

But  stamp  it  indelibly  there. 

5* 


ft^S^a. 


54 

The  last  ray  the  setting  sun  darted, 

How  brightly  it  gilded  the  plain ! 
Even  now,  though  that  sun  is  departed. 

The  tints  of  his  splendour  remain. 
And  thus  o'er  my  memory  shone,  love, 

Thy  last  parting  beams  of  regret ; 
The  planet  which  shed  them  is  gone,  love, 

But  their  mild  halo  lingers  there  yet. 


Thca  dream  not  that  constancy  faltei  . 

If  distance  be  measured  between ; 
Or  that  love,  little  innocent,  alters 

His  plume  with  the  altering  scene. 
Oh  no — for  where'er  we  move  on,  love, 

Still  heart  is  united  to  heart. 
And  the  links  bu^  '  le  firmer  are  drawn,  love, 

The  further  we  journey  apart.        * 


■jLXa..^ 


i 


55 


'TIS  NOT  WHEN  THE  BROW  IS  BRIGHT. 


f, 


n 


'Tis  not  when  the  brow  is  bright 
That  the  heart  is  still  most  light ; 
'Tis  not  when  'tis  clouded  o'er 
That  the  heart  still  feels  the  more. 

Tears  may  flow, 
Though  not  of  sadness  ; 

Smiles  may  glow, 
Though  not  of  gladness  ; 
There  are  sweetest  joys  which  lie 
Far  too  deep  for  other's  eye ;    \ 
There  are  keenest  pangs  of  wo 
None  but  they  who  feel  can  know. 


56 


THE  MOON  IS  TRAVELLING  THROUGH  THE  SKY 


The  moon  is  travelling  through  the  sky. 
Without  a  cloud  to  dim  her  path  ; 

A  thousand  lamps  are  lit  on  high, 

And  each  a  mimic  rival  hath 

In  the  clear  wave  reflected  bright. 

Oh,  often,  when,  on  such  a  night, 

Pve  floated  o^er  its  breast,  and  gazM 

Upon  the  star  that  o'er  me  blaz'd. 

And  then  in  pensive  mood  have  turned 

To  that  which  far  beneath  me  burn'd — 

Fve  thought  the  one  was  like  the  beaming 

Of  promisM  jojrs  still  brightest  seeming ; 

The  other,  twinkling  through  its  tears, 

Like  memory  of  departed  years. 


•if 


^ . .  . ., 


4-  -  ^  jLBitA  V  ^^. 


■■wi™...ci:-r'  "•^'t.-ui^-ioii  ";:jMt.'»f^'A 


•K.    iA„ 


57 


TOUJOURS  FIDELLE. 


* 


ToujouRs  fidelle,  the  warrior  cried, 

As  he  seiz'd  his  courser's  rein, 
And  bending  over  his  weeping  bride, 
He  whisper'd  the  hope  which  his  heart  v-anied, 

That  thej  soon  might  meet  again. 
And  fear  not,  he  said,  though  the  wide,  wide 

Betwixt  us  its  billows  swell ; 
Believe  me,  dearest,  thy  knight  will  be 
To  France  and  to  honour— to  love  and  to  thee. 
Toujours  fidelle. 


sea 


w 


58 

Then  proudly  her  forehead  that  lady  rears, 

And  proudly  she  thus  replied — 
Nay,  think  not  my  sorrow  proceeds  from  fears — 
And  the  glance  which  she  threw,  though  it  shone 
through  tears, 

Was  the  glance  of  a  soldier's  hride. 
Not  mine  is  the  wish  to  bid  thee  stay, 

Though  I  cannot  pronounce,  "  farewell ;" 
Since  glory  calls  thee — away,  away — 

And  still  be  thy  watch-word  on  battle  day. 
Toujours  fidelle.  ' 

One  moment  he  gaz'd — the  lingering  knight — 

The  next  to  the  field  he  sped : 
Why  need  I  tell  of  the  deadly  fight, 
But  to  mark  his  fate  ? — for  his  country's  right 

He  battled — and  he  bled. 


■  """^^^'r.  -^,.1 


^m.^^'' 


.11 


--■j^- 


59 

Yet  he  died  as  the  brave  alone  can  die— 

The  conqueror's  shout  his  knell ; 
His  sleep  was  the  slumber  of  victory— 
And  for  her  whom  he  lov'd  his  latest  sigh. 
Toujours  fidelle. 


/ 


i 


60 


iii 


WHY  SHOULD'ST  THOU  THINK  MY  HEART  IS 


1 


CHANGED. 


■ 


Why  should'st  thou  think  my  heart  is  cliang'd  : 

Why  should'st  thou  say  I  love  thee  not : 
Can  love  like  mine  be  e'er  estrang'd  : 

Can  truth  like  thine  be  e'er  forgot  ? 
Have  I  not  still  through  wo  and  weal, 

Watch'd  o'er  thee  with  a  brother's  care  ? 
Had'st  thou  a  grief  I  did  not  feel, 

Have  I  a  joy  thou  dost  not  share  ? 
The  subject  of  my  nightly  dream, 

The  burthen  of  my  waking  thought ; 
By  night,  by  day,  my  constant  theme — 

How  could'st  thou  think  I  lov'd  thee  not  ? 


'W. 


f/l 


61 


'  '■•»•.> 


■/■  i. 


For  thee,  when  brightest  flowers  I  meet, 
The  blushing  garland  still  I  twine  ; 

Whene'er  my  lips  their  song  repeat, 
The  name  they  murmur  still  is  thine  ; 

And  when  my  pencil  seeks  to  trace 

Some  angel  form,  beneath  its  touch 
Still  spring  to  life  that  fairy  grace. 

Those  features  I  have  lov'd  so  much. 
1  mourn  thee  absent — feel  wlicii  near 

A  rapture  none  can  rank  above  ; 
If  this  be  not  to  love  thee,  dear. 

Oh,  tell  me  what  it  is  to  love ! 


6 


62 


SHE  IS  GONE  TO  THE  PLACE  OF  HER  REST. 


She  is  gone  to  the  place  of  her  rest, 

Where  sorrow  can  reach  her  never; 
She  is  flown  to  the  realms  of  the  blest, 

She  is  lost  to  our  view  for  ever. 
Her  dust  hath  return'd  to  the  earth, 

Ere  the  canker  of  age  decay'd  it ; 
And,  pure  as  it  came  at  her  birth, 

Her  spirit  to  Him  who  made  it. 


■■^mmmr. 


J 


68 

There  riseth  no  marble  fair 

O'er  her  grave,  its  memorial  keeping: 
But  for  her  who  reposeth  there 

Still  many  an  eye  is  weeping. 
There  needeth  no  idle  stone 

To  tell  of  the  worth  that  hath  perish'd ; 
On  our  hearts  'tis  engraven  alone, 

Where  her  memory  long  will  be  cherish'd. 


r 


64 


SACRED  MELODY 


Oh  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  my  ways, 

And  hast  watch'd  o'er  my  nights  and  my  days, 

And  thou  know'st,  ere  my  tongue  can  impart. 

The  innermost  thoughts  of  my  heart. 

Whither  can  I  turn  for  a  spot 

Where  thy  presence,  thy  sp'rit,  is  not ! 

If  to  Heaven's  high  courts  I  repair, 

Or  to  Hell's  lowest  depths — thou  art  there. 

On  the  wings  of  the  morn,  if  I  flee 

To  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea, 

Even  there  will  thy  guidance  be  found — 

Thy  providence  compass  me  round. 


K 


t. 


65 

Should  I  aay,  "  I'll  in  darkness  abide. 
For  surely  the  darkness  can  hide  ;" 
Around  me  thy  sunshine  shall  play, 
And  the  night  shall  be  bright  as  the  day  : 
For  oh,  to  thine  a//-piercing  sight 
Alike  are  the  darkness  and  light. 

But  wherefore,  my  God,  should  I  try 
From  the  light  of  thy  presence  to  fly  ? 
'Tis  to  tliee  my  existence  I  owe, 
And  the  joys  from  existence  that  flow ; 
And  His  thou  that  prolongest  my  days— 
Oh,  let  them  be  spent  in  thy  praisr ! 


G* 


Evils  surround  thee  from  th/  birth, 

Vain  man — thine  hours  how  few  they  be  ! 

To-day  thou  coverest  the  earth, 
The  earth  to-morrovy  covers  thee. 


rn 


:    '■' 


X  iME  blots  out  benefits,  alas, 

While  injuries  his  power  withstand ; 
The  latter  we  record  on  brass — 

The  former  register  in  sand. 


67 


WHERE  ARE  THE  KINGS  OF  FORMER  TIMES. 


Where  are  the  kings  of  former  times, 

The  conquerors  of  the  earth, 
Who  stain'd  the  sceptre  with  their  crimes, 

Or  grac'd  it  with  their  worth  ? 
Where  are  thej  now  ? — the  hand  of  death 

Haih  crush'd  them  in  their  pride ; 
Their  power  departed  with  their  hreath — 

They  liv'd — and  they  have  died. 


w 


68 


SACRED  MELODY. 


Not  unto  us,  oh  Lord,  but  thee, 

From  whom  our  various  blessings  flow, 

Let  praise  and  glory  ever  be. 

Throughout  the  wond'ring  worlds  below. 

Thou  reign'st  unrivall'd  and  alone — 
No  arm  to  stay,  no  power  to  bind  ; 

Earth  for  thy  footstool — Heaven  thy  thronc- 
The  clouds  thy  car — thy  paths  the  winH. 


W" 


Thine  is  the  sun  that  flames  on  high, 
The  moon  that  sheds  her  milder  light 


. 


69 

And  thine  those  hrilliants  of  the  skj 
That  sparkle  on  the  brow  of  night. 

Thine  are  the  tenants  of  the  stream, 
The  bird  whose  note  all  nature  thrills ; 

The  insect  sporting  in  the  beam, 
The  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills. 

Then  not  to  us  of  mortal  frame, 
Not  unto  us  be  songs  of  praise : 

But  thee,  unchangeably  the  same, 
The  Ancien*  of  Eternal  dajs. 


70 


j<i? 


I, 


THE  ROSE  THAT  BUDS  AND  BLOOMS. 


The  rose  that  buds  and  blooms 

Beneath  the  summer  ray, 
If  winter  spread  its  glooms, 

Must  droop  and  fade  away. 
So  health,  and  wit,  and  power. 

And  beauty  fade  away  ; 
But  ah,  unlike  the  flower, 

They  have  no  second  May. 


*Ji 


71 

Then  hoard,  ere  youth  be  spent, 

Those  inward  charms  refined, 
Which,  like  the  rose's  scent. 

Will  still  rennain  behind  ; 
Undying,  undecay'd. 

Will  still  remain  behind ; 
Such  charms  can  never  fade. 

They  flourish  in  the  mind. 


-'••'•^nrntmrnm. 


72 


f 


'TIS  LONG  SINCE  WE  HAVE  MET. 


:1 


'Tis  long  since  we  have  met,  my  dear, 

And  longer  seems  to  be  ; 
But  ne'er  can  I  forget,  my  dear, 

Our  love's  wild  infancy  ; — 
The  joy,  the  grief,  the  hope,  the  fear. 
That  mark'd  the  varied  hours,  my  deai', 

Which  I  have  spent  with  thee. 
And  never  can  I  feel  again 
Rapture  like  that  which  thrill'd  me  then. 

But  though  our  dream  be  o'er,  my  love, 
Our  transient  dream  of  bliss  ; 


\ 


I 


73 

And  though  we  meet  no  more,  my  love. 

In  such  a  world  as  this — 
Still  faith  points  fervently  above, 
And  bids  us  trust  that  there,  my  love, 

Is  perfect  happiness, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  human  thought ; 
A  home  where  sorrow  enters  not. 


Then  from  my  eyelid  thus,  my  sweet, 

I  dash  away  the  tear  ; 
O'erjoy'd  that  yet  for  us,  my  sweet, 

Such  brightening  hopes  appear. 
That  yet  in  purer  worlds  shall  meet 
The  happy  souls  of  those,  my  sweet, 

Who  were  the  fondest  here  : 
And  freed  from  every  earthly  care, 
Shall  live  and  love  for  over  Hiere. 

7 


.#■ — -^ 


74 


THOUGH  THE  COLD  HAND  OF  SICKNESS. 


1 


Though  the  cold  hand  of  sickness  thy  pale  brow  hath 

crost, 
And  thine  eye  for  a  moment  its  splendour  hath  lost. 
Soon  health  to  thy  cheek  shall  its  freshness  restore, 
And  that  eye  with  new  lustre  shall  sparkle  once  more. 

Yes,  the  spring-time  of  health  may  thy  beauties  renew, 
But  he  who  now  sorrows  to  bid  thee  adieu, 
Shall  never  again  with  fond  triumph  descry 
The  bloom  of  thy  cheek,  or  the  hght  of  thine  eye. 


I 


I 

I 


/'I 


!i 


Oh,  his  path  may  be  rude — and  in  far  distant  clime 
He  may  wander  unblest — ^but  the  finger  of  time, 


75 

Though  from  memory's  page  it  aught  else  should 

erase, 
There  deeper  and  deeper  thine  image  shall  trace. 

And  still  all  thy  power  shall  that  image  retain. 
To  share  in  his  welfare  or  solace  his  pain  ; 
And  still  when  arises  his  incense  of  pray'r, 
At  morn  or  at  even,  thy  name  shall  be  there. 


I 


And  when  death  from  this  dark  world  shall  bid  him 

depart, 
Oh  let  him  but  whisper  in  peace  to  his  heart. 
That  the  friend  whom  it  lov'd — whom  it  cherishM — 

is  blest, 
And  calm  and  contented  'twill  sink  to  its  rest. 


YOUNG  LOVE  ONE  EVE  WITH  BOSOM  LIGHT. 


Young  Love  one  eve  with  bosom  light, 
His  skiff  for  pleasure's  isle  did  steer ; 
The  sky  above  was  clear  and  bright, 

And  the  wave  beneath  was  as  bright  and  clear. 
His  polar  star  was  woman's  eye — 
His  zephyr  was  woman's  balmy  sigjh — 
And  the  mists  that  hover'd  around  erewhile, 
Were  scalter'd  by  woman's  rosy  smile. 


77 

He  sailM  till  on  the  waters  blue 

Appear'd  an  isle  of  the  purest  green  ; 
When  a  squall  o'er  the  face  of  the  waters  flew, 

And  the  blooming  isle  was  no  longer  seen. 
Then  his  polar  star  denied  its  ray — 
His  balmy  zephyr  sped  away — 
And  the  rosy  smile  that  had  ^ur'd  him  on 
With  the  star  and  the  zephyr,  alas,  was  gone. 


Around  him  whistled  the  gathering  gale, 

The  night  bird  scream'd  as  it  passM  him  by ; 

Rent  from  his  mast  was  the  silken  sail. 

And  his  veins  were  chill'd  by  the  wintry  sky. 

The  wave  flung  aloft  its  foamy  wreath. 

And  the  boat  and  the  pilot  were  whelm'd  beneath  ; 

No  eye  to  pity — no  arm  to  save — 

So  the  billow  of  Passion  was  young  Love's  gi\ive. 

7* 


r 


li 


m 


FILL  UP  THE  BOWL. 


m 


Fill  up  the  bowl — since  we  ne'er  can  recover 

The  pleasures  or  sorrows  of  moments  gone  past, 
Let  us  smile  at  our  sorrows  as  soon  as  they're  over, 

And  taste  of  our  pleasures  as  long  as  they  last. 
Oh,  who  could  refuse,  while  such  nectar  gushes 

From  our  rose  circled  vases,  its  sweetness  to  sip  ! 
Those  roses  as  bright  as  a  maiden's  blushes, 

That  nectar  as  rich  as  the  dews  of  her  lip. 
Fill  up,  fill  up — since  we  ne'er  can  recover 

The  pleasures  or  sorrows  of  moments  gone  past. 
Let  us  smile  at  our  sorrows  as  soon  as  they're  over, 

And  taste  of  our  pleasures  as  long  as  they  last. 


79 

I  West  are  we  now,  but  we  know  not  wlietlicr 

This  freshness  of  heart  on  the  morrow  may  bloom ; 

Life's  shadows  and  lights  are  so  blended  together 
That  the  brightest  of  hours  have  their  portion  of 

gloom. 

The  world's  cold,  withering  frown  may  banish 

Each  feeling  which  now  sheds  a  balm  o'er  the  mind ; 
The  hue  of  health  from  our  cheek  may  vanish, 

And  leave  but  the  furrow  of  care  behind ; 
Vet  (ill,  fill  up — since  we  ne'er  can  recover 

The  pleasures  or  sorrows  of  moments  gone  past, 
Let  us  smile  at  our  sorrows  as  soon  as  they're  over, 

And  taste  of  o  •"  pU'.asiMes  as  long  as  they  last. 


Brightly  the  stars  no  .y  sparkle  above  us, 
Yet  soon  may  a  cloud  obscure  their  ray  ; 

Sweet  are  the  smiles  of  those  who  love  us — 
Soon  may  those  smiles  be  far  away. 


r' 


.  .1 


/...-. 


80 


i(  -I 


f^ 


But  who,  when  no  cloud  is  gathering  o'er  him. 

Dreams  that  the  tempest  yet  may  low'r ; 
Who,  with  a  bowl  like  ours  before  him. 

Casts  a  thought  on  the  parting  hour  ? 
■Fill  up,  fill  up — since  we  ne'er  can  recover 

The  pleasures  or  sorrows  of  moments  gone  past. 
Let  us  smile  at  our  sorrows  as  soon  as  they're  over, 

And  taste  of  our  pleasures  as  long  as  they  last. 


anacreontic- 


Look  round— whate'er  you  can  descry 

Has  use  as  well  as  beauty  *, 
The  sun  that  frolics  through  the  sky, 
The  earth  herself,  and  even  1, 
Have  each  our  separate  duty. 

Dear  wine,  thou  source  of  all  our  glee. 

(Whatever  some  may  think  thee,) 
That  earth  was  made  thy  nurse  to  be- 
That  sun  was  made  to  ripen  thee— 

And  I  was  made — to  drink  theo. 


82 


FARE  THEE  WELL. 


I 


■1  ! 


Fare  thee  well— fare  thee  well 

Now  and  for  ever  ; 
Those  billows  that  swell 

Soon  our  pathways  shall  sever 
Light  be  thy  breast — 

May  peace  long  att-^^nd  it ; 
No  cares  to  molest, 

Aiid  no  sorrows  to  rend  it. 


ii 


85 


Oh,  friends  when  they're  near 

May  he  dear  to  our  hosom, 
But  are  never  so  dear 

As  the  moment  we  lose  'em. 
And  still  we  descry 

In  the  far  distant  lover, 
Some  virtue  which,  nigh, 

We  could  never  discover. 


Thus  then — while  afar 

Unlov'd  and  unloving, 
I  rove  with  no  star 

To  smile  on  my  roving — 
When  treading  alone 

The  bowers  where  I've  met  thee. 
Thus  think  thou  of  one 

Who  can  never  forget  thee. 


*■ 


^■ 


84 


'/f' 


DEAR  MARY,  CHECK  THAT  RISING  SIGH. 


;■  4    ' 


Dear  Marj,  check  that  rising  sigh, 

And  chase  those  threat'ning  clouds  of  care  : 
So  fair  thy  cheek,  so  bright  thine  eye. 

'Twere  pity  clouds  should  gather  there. 
And  blame  me  not  if  I  have  rov'd, 

For  still  where'er  my  heart  might  pine, 
It  lov'd — nay  hear  me — only  lov'd 

The  charms  which  most  resembled  thine. 


I,  u 


85 

When  Lucy  heard  me  softly  speak 

The  tale  which  told  my  heart  was  won, 
Though  warm  the  roses  on  her  cheek, 

'Twas  not  her  cheek  I  thought  upon. 
But  then  her  smile — oh,  who  could  say 

That  smile  was  not  the  most  benign  !— 
I  lov'd  her,  dear — nay  hear  me  pray — 

Because  that  smile  resembled  thine. 


When  Chloe  saw  me  at  her  feetj 

Although  her  breast  and  virgin  brow 
Might  shame  the  hue  of  mountain  sleet, 

It  was  not  these  that  made  me  bow. 
But  then  her  eye — and  such  an  eye — 

No  wonder  it  attracted  mine ; 
1  lov'd  her,  dear — nay  hear  me  why — 

Because  that  eye  resembled  thine. 

8 


# 


86 

When  Fanny  led  me  next  aside   . 

Laughing  at  the  mischief  which  she  made. 
Though  auburn  locks  were  Fanny's  pride 

I  car'd  not  for  each  sunny  braid. 
But  then  her  lips — to  see  them  pout — 

Who  would  not  think  those  lips  divine ! — 
I  lov'd  her,  dear — nay  hear  me  out — 

Because  those  lips  resembled  thine. 


1      ;! 


M 


And  thus  you  see  in  every  change. 

While  zephyr-hke  from  bower  to  bower 
Through  beauty's  garden  I  could  range, 

I  ne'er  forgot  my  favourite  flower. 
Then  blame  me  not,  though  I  have  rov'd, 

But  with  a  kiss  my  pardon  sign  ; 
For  when  I  lov'd,  I  only  lov'd 

The  charms  which  most  resembled  thine. 


■J-v 


"^rr^tr 


87 


I'D  WISH  TO  BE. 


I'd  wish  to  be  the  careless  bird 

EnamourM  of  its  cage,  whose  lay 
At  morn  like  fairy  music  heard, 

Chaseth  thy  dream  of  love  away. 
I'd  wish  to  be  the  matin  beam 

Which  prints  its  first  kiss  on  thy  cheek. 
As  half  awaken'd  from  that  dream 

The  conscious  blushes  o'er  it  break, 
rd  wish  to  be— I'd  wish  to  be 
Whate'er  is  near  or  dear  to  theo. 


i       i 


'<ii 


^i    i 


88 


I'd  wish  to  be  the  simple  flower 

That  breathes  its  perfume  through  thy  hair  : 
1  know  'twill  wither  in  an  hour, 

But  ohj  how  blest  to  wither  there. 
I'd  wish  to  be  the  dew-drop  clear 

That  wets  thy  brow  from  every  leaf. 
Or  purer  still,  the  sacred  tear 

That  trickles  for  another's  grief. 
I'd  wish  to  be — I'd  wish  to  be 
Whatever  may  belong  to  thee. 

I'd  wish  to  be  the  summer  gale 
That  fans  thy  bosom  with  its  sigh, 

Stealing  beneath  the  modest  veil 

Which  screens  thy  charms  from  every  eye. 

I'd  wish  to  be  the  limpid  wave — 
I'd  wish  to  be  the  bower'd  retreat ; 


89 

In  that  your  snowy  limbs  you  lave, 

In  this  repose  from  noontide  heat. 
I'd  wish  to  be — I'd  wish  to  be 
Whate'er  can  give  delight  to  thee. 


8- 


90 


IF  YOU  LOVE,  DEAR,  OH  BREATHE  NOT  A 

WORD. 


.!      I 


I 


v 


r 


r 

I  j 


■S3     ■ 


5:    : ' 


If  you  love,  dear,  oh  breathe  not  a  word 

Lest  your  lips  should  the  secret  unfold ; 
In  a  sigh  it  should  only  be  heard. 

By  a  glance  it  should  only  be  told. 
For  there's  more  in  an  eloquent  sigh 

Than  the  softest  of  accents  can  tell ; 
And  there's  that  in  the  glance  of  an  eye 

Which  no  language  can  utter  as  well. 
Then  look  from  thy  lattice  my  love, 

In  the  moonbeam  thy  form  let  me  see. 
And  send  from  that  lattice  above 


'he  sigh  and  the  glance  down  to  me. 


91 


If  you  love,  dear,  oh  trace  not  a  line 
Lest  your  pen  should  the  passion  hetray ; 

To  a  blush  its  avowal  consign — 

By  a  smile  the  sweet  transport  convey. 

For  there's  more  in  a  bright  blushing  cheek 
Than  the  readiest  pen  can  indite  ; 

And  the  smiles  which  love's  message  bespeak 

Are  brilliant  as  letters  of  light. 
Then  look  from  thy  lattice  my  love, 

In  the  moonbeam  thy  form  let  me  see.. 
And  send  from  that  lattice  above 

The  blush  and  the  smile  down  to  me. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


A&12.8     12.5 
2.2 


^   tiS. 


2.0 


I 
L25  BlllA  11.6 


6" 


7] 


7 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 

% 


^ 


(* 


m 


WOMAN. 


Heaven's  last,  best  gift. 


Oh  Woman,  thou  star  of  our  lonely  sphere. 

How  dear  is  the  light  of  thy  love  ! — 
It  leads  us  onward  to  glory  Iicie, 

And  guides  us  to  peace  above. 
Though  the  world  were  bright  as  poets  sing, 

Yet  its  brightest  spot  would  be 
More  dark  than  the  angel  of  terror's  wing. 

If  it  were  not  illum'd  by  thee. 


93 

Who  hath  not  listened  in  ecstacy 
To  the  soul-melting  harps  of  air  ? 

The  ruder  the  winds  that  o'er  them  stray, 
The  sweeter  the  sounds  they  bear. 

And  it  is  thus  with  Woman  still- 
When  penury's  blast  comes  o'er 

The  chords  of  her  heart,  it  but  makes  them  thrill 
With  a  truer  tone  than  before. 

Whate'er  be  their  knowledge,  we  envy  not 

Those  cold,  philosophical  elves 
Who  can  pore  o'er  their  volumes,  and  trace  their  lot 

In  planets  as  cold  as  themselves. 
More  precious  the  page,  and  more  bright  the  skies 

Which  the  fate  of  us,  poets,  impart ; 
Our  only  black-letter's  thy  tell-tale  eyes— 

Our  elysium— wherever  thou  art. 


4«5 


94 


Let  statesmen  wrangle  and  warriors  bleed 

To  win  an  immortal  fame ;   , 
They  may  shine  for  a  moment— but  'tis  their  meed 

To  perish — aye,  even  in  name. 
Away  with  ambition — still  be  it  mine, 

Unvex'd  by  its  cares  and  wiles, 
To  proffer  my  homage  at  Woman's  shrine, 

And  bask  in  the  heaven  of  her  smiles. 


itWX-^.imm.,vmp  I .  I     ,rr  — — — 


95 


2(1 


.  r  r 

■  J  1    ■■ 


\ULD  ROBIN  GRAY. 


When  morning's  first  ray  beam'd 

And  brighten'd  all  the  plain, 
Kach  flowret  snmil'd,  each  songster  seem'd 

To  pour  his  sweetest  strain. 
J  thought  how,  free  from  woes, 

We  once  were  quite  as  gay, 
And  quite  as  blithe  our  morning  rose — 

My  ain  auld  Robin  Gray. 


96 


At  noon,  this  scene  so  bright 

Was  chang'd — for  dark  clouds  lower'd, 
The  lightning  wingM  it's  rapid  flight — 

The  wintry  torrent  shower'd* 
Oh  fleetly  thus,  cried  I, 

Our  morviing  pass'd  away  ; 
Thus  darken'd  was  our  noontide  sky — 

My  ain  auld  Robin  Gray. 


' 


When  evening  came,  less  loud 

The  dying  tempest  blew ; 
And  spots  of  sky  'twixt  every  cloud 

Were  seen  of  azure  hue. 
Thus  pleasure's  sun  which  hath 

So  long  d^^niedits  ray, 
Now  shines  upon  our  eveniug  path — 

My  ain  auld  Robin  Gray.    -    ci  -•;  o 


ir 


:>  r  •■!,  .; 


■/'/ 


97 

By  night  the  storm  was  gone, 

The  wave  had  sunk  to  rest ;  / 

The  trembling  beam  reflected  shone 

On  ocean's  tranquil  breast. 
Oh  thus,  cried  I,  in  peace 

May  our  night  pass  away, 
And  thus  may  all  our  sorrows  cease — 

My  ain  auld  Robin  Gray. 


9 


98 


FANCY  NOT,  DEAR,  I  CAN  E»ER  FORGET. 


t 


Tancy  not,  dear,  I  can  e'er  forget 

Thy  smile  in  the  beauties  that  round  me  I  see : 
My  heart  for  a  moment  may  wander — ^but  yet 

It  returns  still  the  fonder,  the  truer  to  thee. 
The  cheeks  of  our  maidens  are  blooming  with  youth. 

And  the  brightest  of  eyes  in  our  firmament  shine ; 

But  those  cannot  match  the  pure  blushes  of  truth. 
Nor  these  the  intelligent  lustre  of  thine. 

Then  fancy  not,  dc^r,  I  can  e'er  forget 
Thy  smile  in  the  beauties  that  round  me  I  see  ; 

My  heart  for  a  moment  may  wander — ^but  yet 
It  returns  still  the  fonder,  the  truer  to  thee. 


i 


t 


99 


r 


1 


Oh  what  were  the  landscape  display'd  to  our  sight 

Though  rich  as  the  pencil  of  nature  e'er  drew, 
Were  it  not  for  the  sunbeam  that  pierces  its  night, 

And  calls  forth  each  slumbering  beauty  to  view. 
'T would  lightly  be  held— and  as  lightly  we  prize, 

Though  aided  by  all  which  the  heart  might  control. 
The  fairest  of  cheeks,  or  the  brightest  of  eyes, 

If  they  be  not  lit  up  by  the  beams  of  the  soul. 
Then  fancy  not,  dear.  I  can  e'er  forget 

Thy  smile  in  the  beauties  that  round  me  I  see  ; 
My  heart  for  a  moment  may  wander — but  yet 

It  returns  still  the  fonder,  the  truer  to  thee. 


100 


r 


OH,  THIS  IS  LOVE. 


Oh,  this  is  love — warm,  faithful  love. 

Which  never  knows  decay, 
But  still  where'er  our  footsteps  i  >ve, 

Adorns  and  lights  our  way. 
Which  blooms  alike  in  wo  and  weal 

As  fearlessly  and  well ; 
Which  only  fondest  hearts  can  feel. 

And  those  who  feel  can  tell. 


I 


•"Tii'rr—     '"        — >      ■         '   '  ^    "i ■  '■■■  -- 


W^.V'V4-4»  ««.ai'^lik.i.*' 


101 

Unchanging  as  the  flame  that  glows 

In  breasts  of  seraph  birth ; 
And  spotless  as  descending  snows 

Ere  stain'd  by  touch  of  earth — 
And  bright  as  yonder  arch  above, 

As  yonder  beacon  true  ; 
Oh,  this  is  love— warm,  faithful  love— 

The  love  I  bear  to  you. 


» - .  .  ( . 


9* 


'  _.^-r  •>^''<  ^u-J^^'"       ,-^^ 


iirr<airiff-"T<MMm|t  tf-ifiiM 


\02 


STANZAS. 


VVritton  aflor  viiiiting  Locii  Doon. 


Farewell,  "bonnie  Doon" — I  have  gazMonthy  lake 
When  it  lay  as  if  hu:h'd  in  the  stilness  of  death ; 

1  have  seen  thy  young  stream  o'er  the  precipice  break, 
As  it  bounded  along  through  the  glen  of  Berbeth. 

I  have  watch'd  thee  with  breast  like  a  mirror  so  bright, 
Alternate  reflecting  the  shadow  and  ray  ; 

Now  shrouded  in  gloom  and  now  sporting  in  light, 
Till  you  melted  at  length  into  ocean  away. 


I 


') 


t 


1 


103 

Like  thy  lake  was  my  infancy — tranquil  and  mild— 

As  unruffled  my  breast,  and  as  cloudless  my  sky ; 
Like  the  strength  of  thy  rivulet — passionate,  wild — 

Have  the  days  of  my  boyhood  swept  heedlessly  by. 
May  the  close  of  my  course  be  as  placid  as  Ihine  ; 

May  the  beams  of  forgiveness  thus  over  it  play, 
To  illumine  its  track  and  to  cheer  its  decline, 

As  it  melts  in  eternity's  ocean  away. 


I  . 


1 


i!'w    \  -.' 


-  i[t'.>\\\''K'   ".'Hi     v''!;!'"!;   *"-!i):iA/' 


■■[->  <>':   b ':'•';•,.'   1    (j;ii  v^/  J'>.;'h'i   i 


104 


ADELE. 


Oh,  long  have  1  lov'd  my  Adele, 

And  her  heart  paid  me  still  in  return 
Till  now  she  has  bid  me  farewell, 

Though  fondly  as  ever  I  burn. 
I  wish  to  despise  her  neglect — 

I  wish  to  become  as  untrue  ; 
I  wish— but  whene'er  I  reflect, 

I  forget  what  1  wish'd  to  do. 


1 


d 


1 


105 

I  wish  from  her  presence  to  fly  ; 

I  wish  to  remember  no  more 
My  love  or  the  treachery 

Of  her  whom  I  once  could  adore. 
I  wish— and  if  she  were  not  near, 

Some  other,  perhaps,  I  might  woo 
I  wish— let  Adele  but  appear, 

I  forget  all  I  wisli'd  to  do. 


On  my  ear  when  her  soft  accents  break 

They  add  to  my  trouble  and  pain  ; 
In  vain  I  endeavour  to  speak, 

I  sigh,  and  in  silence  remain. 
I  wish— when  I'm  far  from  her  spell, 

That  hke  her  I  could  cease  to  be  true 
I  wish— but  when  near  my  Adele 
I  forget  what  I  wish'd  to  do. 


I 


106 


ml( 


CUISH  LA  MA  CHREE. 


When  in  youth's  sunny  prime 

l^houghtless  and  free, 
Nature  in  every  clime 

Burning  to  see — 
Erin,  I  left  thy  shore  muif 

Roaming  each  region  o'er, 
'Twas  but  to  love  thee  more, 
Cuish  la  ma  chree. 


i 


I'.  ' 


107 

What  though  on  foreign  soil 

Hapless  I  be, 
Still  doth  it  sweeten  toil 

Thinking  of  thee. 
And  when  life's  ebbing  sand 
Points  out  its  close  at  hand, 
Once  more  I'll  seek  thy  strand, 

Cuish  la  ma  chree. 


Thus  yonder  orb  of  day 

Eastward  we  see, 
(iild  with  his  morning  ray 

iVIountain  and  lea  ; 
But  at  the  hour  of  rest 
Still  turns  he  tow'rd  ttie  west, 
Seeking  thy  peaceful  breast, 

Cuish  la  ma  chree. 


I' ': 


108 


TO 


i 


If  ever  yet  a  gleam  of  mirth 

From  my  sad  bosom  banish'd 
The  cares  which  bow  it  down  to  earth, 
To  you  alone  it  owed  its  birth, 
And  oh,  with  you  it  vanish'd. 


So,  while  the  summer  sunbeams  play 
Upon  some  darkhng  river, 

It  warmly  flashes  back  the  ray  ; 

But  if  the  beam  be  turn'd  away 
The  tide  is  dark  as  ever.         , 


109 


SWEET  STREAMLET. 


Sweet  streamlet,  flowing  on  thy  way, 
How  much  my  loi  resembles  thine ; 

Thou  from  thy  course  dost  never  stray. 
And  I  am  constant  still  to  mine. 

How  silently  thy  waters  glide — 
As  silently  my  moments  move ; 

How  pure  the  crystal  of  thy  tide — 
As  pure  for  Emma  is  my  love. 

10 


#-  *•■  ,»,„  A 


^  '^^"% 


110 

The  storms  that  vex  the  prouder  wave 
Thy  humble  current  ruffle  not ; 

So  I  the  storms  of  fortune  brave — 
They  pass  me  by  and  are  forgot. 


I  I 


When  Emma  wanders  near  to  thee 
Thy  breast  reflects  the  portrait  fair ; 

Look  into  mine,  and  thou  wilt  see 
Her  form  as  truly  pictur'd  there. 

Thou  hast  no  deep,  deceitful  place, 
And  I  no  deep,  deceitful  art ; 

The  bottom  of  thy  bed  we  trace, 
And  read  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

Thy  waters  still  with  gentle  force 
Flow  onward  to  their  goal — the  main, 


P  i 


Ill 

Till  winter's  power  arrest  their  course 
And  bind  them  with  its  icy  chain. 


So  flow  my  hopes  unceasing  on — 
My  Emma's  love  their  only  goal ; 

So  will  they  flow  till  life  be  done 
And  icy  death  arrest  my  aoul. 


112 


WHEN  FIRST  WE  MET. 


When  first  we  met — when  first  we  met — 

In  ringlets  curl'd  thy  jetty  hair, 
And  sorrow's  tear  had  never  wet 

Thy  cheek,  to  stain  the  roses  there. 
But  roses  there  no  longer  blow, 

And  blanch'd  are  now  those  locks  of  jet. 
For  sorrow's  tear  hath  learn'd  to  flow 

Since  first  we  met — since  first  we  met. 


pm 


113 

When  first  we  met — when  first  we  met — 

Thine  eye  was  like  the  falcon's  bright ; 
And  care  had  never  dared  to  set 

His  seal  upon  thy  brow  of  light. 
Those  eyes,  so  dim  and  wasted  now, 

Their  former  power  almost  forget ; 
And  care  hath  furrow'd  o'er  that  brow 

Since  first  we  met — since  first  we  met. 

When  first  we  met — when  first  we  met — 

Thy  heart  could  feel  another's  grief ; 
And  feels  it  not  as  warmly  yet — 

As  warmly  glows  to  grant  relief? 
It  does,  it  does — that  generous  tear^- 

Then  why  thy  fleeting  charms  regret, 
Since  thou  art  still  as  truly  dear 

As  when  we  met — when  first  we  met. 

10* 


>:,   .•-)!    «,. 


^^._-OI-.    #-♦    .^     ^ 


114 


THINK  NOT,  DEAREST. 


Think  not,  dearest,  that  my  love 
Is  but  light  and  ranging ; 

Every  change  it  soars  above, 
In  itself  unchanging. 

Sorrow  may  my  heart  depress, 
Pleasure  may  elate  it ; 

This  can  ne'er  my  love  increase — 
That  shall  ne'er  abate  it,  dear, 
That  shall  ne'er  abate  it. 


§ 


When  our  prospects  bode  no  ill 
Then  may  love  seem  weakest ; 


115 

But  his  strongest,  purest  still 
When  our  hopes  are  bleakest — 

As  those  meteors  which  illume 
Heaven's  horizon  nightly, 

From  amid  the  deepest  gloom 
Sparkle  forth  most  brightly,  dear, 
Sparkle  forth  most  brightly. 


And  as  age  but  makes  the  vine, 

Whose  young  tendrils  wander 
Round  the  sapling's  stem,  entwine 

Fonder  there  and  fonder — 
So  my  breast  for  thee  retains 

The  Jirsl  love  that  bound  it ; 
Time  can  onl>  twine  the  chains 

Still  more  firmly  round  it,  dear. 

Still  more  firmly  round  it. 


{i 


li  •> 


116 


TO  MY  CARRIER-DOVE. 


*'  On  Saint  Valentine's  eve  every  true  knij^lit  will  dream  of  liiii 
Ladyo-lovc,  and  every  Ladye  uf  her  truBtie  Knight;  moreover,  they 
will  whiBpo'  from  their  sleepe  the  names  of  the  persons  so  dreamo( 
of."— Uftfoy  on  Dreams-       i 


Away,  away,  my  carrier-dove, 
Thy  lord's  behest  to  bear ; 

To-night  love  rules  below,  above, 
Arc'ind  and  every  where. 


117 

The  youth  will  dream  with  pure  delight 
Of  ti.e  maid  whom  he  loves  so  well ; 

And  th'  unconscious  maid  will  reveal  to-night 
What  to-morrow  she'd  blush  to  tell. 


Away,  away,  my  carrier-dove, 

Nor  stay  thy  snow-white  wing 
Till  you  reachthecouch  where  my  own  dear  love 

Lies  sweetly  slumbering. 
And  when  from  amid  her  tranquil  rest 

She  breathes  to  Saint  Valentine 
The  name  of  him  whom  she  loves  the  best. 

Oh,  list  if  she  whisper  mine. 


t"".-:if-:"'?/j.. 


ij 

t 


118 


WHEN  THE  POOR  PILGRIM,  BENT  WITH  PAIN. 


When  the  poor  pilgrim,  bent  with  pain, 

Foresees  his  parting  moments  nigh, 
He  seeks  to  reach  that  sacred  fane 

Which  heard  his  earliest  vows — to  die. 
He  stops  not  in  his  path — though  there 

The  brightest  flowers  their  sweets  display ; 
Though  richest  altars  court  his  pray'r 

He  turns  not  from  his  constant  way  ; 
But  worn  with  toil,  and  weak  with  fast, 

And  wasted  by  meridian  fires, 
He  gains  the  sacred  fane  at  last, 

And  bending  at  its  shrine — expires. 


119 

Thus  I,  whose  course  of  joy  is  o'er, 

Havf  sought,  ere  life  be  spent,  to  bow 
Before  that  spotless  shrine  once  more 

Where  first  I  breath'd  my  morning  vow. 
Though  altars  that  might  well  have  vied 

Even  with  mine  own  around  me  shone, 
My  heart  hath  never  turn'd  aside ; 

But,  restless  still,  I've  wander'd  on. 
Till  now  in  all  its  pomp  divine 

The  wish'd-for  fane  at  length  I  see. 
And  lowly  bending  at  its  shrine, 

Breathe  forth  my  soul — adoring  thee. 


■'•CRssaNvsar-' 


120 


I  SAW  TWO  YOUNG  ROSE  TREES. 


t 

f 

', 

HBikJ 

I  SAW  two  young  rose  trees,  that  wav'd  in  the  blast. 

Their  briars  and  their  blossoms  so  fondly  entwine ; 
I  saw  them,  the  moment  the  tempest  swept  past, 

Part  coldly  for  ever,  nor  seem  to  repine. 

And  I  thought  of  the  hearts  that  had  flourishM  like  them, 
And  like  them  too,  in  wo  had  united  their  frame 

As  closely  as  if  they  had  sprung  from  one  stem — 
Their  joys,  and  their  hopes,  and  their  sorrows  the 
same : 

Yet,  soon  as  adversity's  trial  was  o'er, 
Had  parted  as  widely,  as  coldly  as  those ; 


^^ 


kh^- 


121 

Forgotten  each  tie  that  had  bound  them  before, 
And  from  dearest  of  friends  become  rankest  of  foes* 

And  I  could  not  but  marvel  that  they  whom  the  hour 
Of  peril  had  mov'd  not — thus  calmly  should  part  •, 

But  it  is  not  the  tempest  that  cankers  the  flow'r, 
And  it  is  not  affliction  that  changes  the  heart. 

Nojtheflow'retwill  live  through  the  cold  dews  of  night. 
And  bloom  forth  at  morning  more  blushing  and  fair ; 

But  if  noon  pour  around  it  its  fulness  of  light, 
It  will  pine  on  the  stem,  and  lie  withering  there. 


And  the  soft  joys  of  pleasure  that  breast  will  disarm 
Which  had  never  been  quell'd  by  adversity's  fears  : 

As  the  mist  that  unshaken  has  weather'd  the  storm, 
By  the  first  gleam  of  sunshine  is  tum'd  into  tears. 

11 


'"Tn-mrTiri— 


122 


r>>. 


LOVE  BLOOMS  UPON  THY  CHEEK  SO  FAIR. 


L 


'  t  ^ 


Love  blooms  upon  thy  cheek  so  fair. 

And  sparkles  in  thine  eye ; 
He  wantons  in  thy  flowing  hair, 

And  breathes  in  every  sigh. 
He  gives  thy  voice  its  melting  tone — 

He  gives  thy  mien  its  grace  ; 
But  in  thine  icy  heart  alone 

He  never  finds  a  place. 


123 


MR. 


I'll  bow  no  more,  as  I  have  done, 

At  shrines  so  cold  the  knee ; 
ni  sing  no  more  of  love  for  one 

Who  will  not  list  to  me. 
Thus,  thus  for  ever  do  we  part— 

And  thus  1  break  the  chain 
Which  once  you  bound  around  my  heart, 
But  ne'er  cun  bind  again. 


t^'iii_jm 


I  «M 


II 


I    i 


!i    ' 


■I 


\1 


i 


124 


WHEN  THE  BEE  NEGLECTS  TO  SIP. 


When  the  Bee  neglects  to  sip 
Sweets  from  every  flow'ret's  lip  ; 
When  the  golden  child  of  day 
Turns  her  from  the  worshippM  ray 

Then  farewell  to  thee,  dear  ; 
But  till  bees  no  longer  rove, 
And  till  sun-flowers  cease  to  love. 

Faithful  will  I  be,  dear. 


:-H 


125 

When  the  breeze  that  o'er  her  blows 
Wafts  no  perfume  from  the  rose  ; 
When  the  minstrel  of  the  shade 
Pours  not  forth  his  serenade, 

Then  farewell  to  thee,  dear  ; 
But  till  rosy  odours  fail. 
And  till  mute  the  nightingale, 

Faithful  will  1  be,  dear. 

When  the  dove  with  anxious  breast 
Broods  not  o'er  her  downy  nest ; 
When  the  crystal  stream  no  more 
Mirrors  the  o'erhanging  shore, 

Then  farewell  to  thee,  dear ; 
But  till  then — through  joy  and  wo, 
Winter's  chill  and  summer's  glow, 
Faithful  will  I  be,  dear. 
i^^  11* 


r-H 


V,  r:X.-;-4^.;,., 


'■  »-^w  I  mtmmiimmjf  y"* 


^SUmB^mtm 


126 


(,  1 


li 


I   } 


THE  DAYS  ARE  GONE. 


>  <■(,,' 


The  days  are  gone — for  ever  gone — 

Ere  fancy  taught  my  heart  to  rove  ; 
When  the  pure  dame  that  led  me  on 

Was  kindled  at  the  shrine  of  love. 
When  nature  wore  her  brightest  smile, 

And  pleasure  knew  of  no  alloy  ; 
When  every  breast  was  free  from  guile, 

And  every  cheek  was  flush'd  with  joy- 


127 

I  mingled  with  the  careless  throng, 

I  sported  in  th'  enlivening  ray  ; 
To  love  I  tun'd  my  matin  song, 

To  love  1  breath'd  my  vesper  lay. 
Bright  eyes  and  sunny  looks  were  there. 

And  cheeks  unsullied  by  a  tear ; 
My  heart  acknowledged  all  were  fair, 

Yet  only  one  of  all  was  dear. 

And  can  I  ne'er  those  hours  renew, 

Life's  sweetest  hours  ?  and  is  there  none 
To  love  as  thou  wert  wont  to  do —  .^ 

To  cheer  as  thou  wouldst  now  have  done  ? 
No— life  is  but  one  dull,  dark  night 

Of  cloud  sand  misery — for  thou, 
Brightest  of  all  that  made  it  bright, 

Even  thou  hast  set  in  darkness  now. 


■"w 


li 


■MMWMMi 


k 


f. 


;*        ' 


128 

And  faithful  memory,  while  she  grieves 

At  the  review  of  former  years, 
And  casts  her  weary  glance  o'er  leaves 

Deform'd  by  blots,  or  stain'd  with  tears ; 
Turns  fondly  to  that  sacred  spot, 

That  page  from  stain  or  error  free, 
Which  tells  of  moments  ne'er  forgot 

Of  love,  and  happiness,  and  thee. 

Of  thee  and  love  too  wild  to  last — 

Oh  tell  me  not  that  beams  which  flow 
From  memory  of  pleasure  past 

Can  shed  a  light  o'er  present  wo. 
Alas,  those  very  beams  instead 

But  make  our  present  gloom  ihe  worse  ; 
When  joy  is  flown  and  hope  has  fled, 

Then  even  memory  proves  a  curse. 


'       •'.  .V 


V? 


129 


To  feel  that  beauty  once  has  blest 

The  heart  she  ne'er  can  bless  again ; 
That  pleasure's  cup  has  once  been  prest 

To  lips  that  now  are  parch'd  with  pain. 
That  every  dear  and  cherisliM  bliss 

Has  vanished  like  a  morning  dream ; 
When  memory  teaches  only  this, 

How  sweet  were  Lethe's  fabled  stream ! 


130 


i  t 


'/. 


r    I 


!: 


r; 


'^  \ 
1 


I 


THE  RING. 


The  ring  you  gave — that  simple  ring 

Might  well  thine  emblem  be ; 
No  gems  around  it  glittering 

In  proud  array  we  ;  ee  : 
But  all  is  modest  to  the  si&;ht. 

Yet  sterling  in  degree  ; 
As  virtue  pure — as  honour  bright — 

Like  thee,  my  love,  like  thee. 


131 


THE  PORTRAIT. 


When  to  the  Graces'  wondering  view 

Young  Love,  one  day,  unfolded 
The  portrait  of  that  form  so  true 

Which  his  own  hand  had  moulded. 
'Tis  mine,  His  mine,  Thalia  cries, 

That  air  so  arch  and  simple  5 
Aglaia  claims  the  laughing  eyes— 

Euphrosyne  the  dimple. 
But  Love  who,  with  a  roguish  smile, 

Had  listen'd  to  each  stricture, 
Thus  spoke,  their  claims  to  reconcile- 
It  is  my  Julia's  picture. 


i 


132 


OH,  TRUER  IS  THE  COURTIER'S  TEAR. 


Oh,  truer  is  the  courtier's  tear 
Shed  o'er  a  fallen  tyrant's  bier ; 
Truer  the  praises  poets  sing, 
Or  sighs,  or  vows — or  any  thing 
Above,  below — divine  or  human- 


Than  woman — fickle,  faithless  woman. 


Turn  from  her  sparkling  orbs  of  blue. 
And  gaze  not  on  her  cheek's  soft  hue: 
Within  no  lights  of  genius  spring — 
No  mental  rose  is  blossoming. 


133 

So  day's  warm  beams  may  gild  the  tomb 
And  sweetest  flowers  around  may  breathe. 

Yet  can  they  not  impart  their  bloom, 
Their  spirit  to  the  dust  beneath. 

Fly  from  her  smile — though  bright  and  wai  m 
'Tis  false  as  sunbeam  'mid  the  storm. 
When  the  pure,  transient  gleam  is  gone 
More  darkly  rolls  the  tempest  on ; 
And  thus  when  woman's  smile  is  o'er, 
Her  frowns  grow  darker  than  before. 


And  though  her  bosom  seem  to  be 
The  dwelling-place  of  purity, 
Yet  feeble  there  is  reason's  ray 
And  passion  holds  unbounded  sway. 

12 


134 


=     i 


So  Etna  rears  her  smiling  crest 
And  seems  all  hush'd  in  sweet  repose. 

While  pent  within  her  raging  breast 
The  quenchless  flame  for  ever  glows. 


fe'*;  lfl!( 


I, 


( 


Then  rather  trust  the  courtier's  tear 
Shed  o'er  a  fallen  tyrant's  bier, 
Or  praise  that  hireling  poets  sing, 
Or  sighs,  or  vows — or  any  thing, 
Above,  below — divine  or  human — 
Than  woman, — fickle,  faithless  /voman. 


Or 


ijH 


135 


AH  WHEREFORE  REPROVE. 


^ 


Ah  wherefore  reprove 
My  words  of  love, 
And  whisper  thus,  "  fie  for  shame,"  my  dear ; 
If  shame  there  be 
In  adoring  thee, 
You  have  none  but  yourself  to  blame,  my  dear. 
Or  why  should  your  cheek 
Such  anger  bespeak ; — 
I  ask  but  the  loan  of  a  kiss,  my  dear. 
And  I  know  that  thou  art 
Too  tender  of  heart 
To  deny  such  a  trifle  as  this,  my  dear. 


136 


i. 


[. 


The  zephyr  of  spring 

Still  scents  his  wing 
I  rom  the  rose-bud  he  passes  o'er,  my  dear ; 

And  steals  as  he  flies 

Her  balmiest  sighs, 
Yet  the  flow'ret  is  sweet  as  before,  my  dear. 

And  so  with  ease 

If  beauty  please, 
From  the  lips  where  such  treasures  are  left,  my  dear. 

Can  love  purloin 

The  richest  coin, 
And  no  one  discover  the  theft,  my  dear. 

Then  keep  not  thus 
Such  a  terrible  fuss. 
Nor  torture  your  sweet  little  mind,  my  dear, 


"^  p 


■iitni1'*^B)i-'- 


137 


ir. 


With  the  idle  fear 

That  if  lips  come  too  near 
Some  trace  may  he  left  behind,  my  dear. 

But  pray  incline 

Your  cheek  to  mine — 
There's  nobody  nigh  to  see,  my  dear  ; 

You'll  never  miss 

The  borrowed  kiss, 
And  oh,  'twill  be  precious  to  me,  my  dear. 


^ 


w 


-~f!^H"--v 


.i#-~ 


-    ti! 


138 


P  1 


^ 


I 


I 


I 


LADIES)  GOOD  BTB. 


Ladies,  good  bye 

To  your  arts  and  wiles  ; 
No  longer  care  I 

For  your  frowns  or  smiles. 
Gone  are  the  days 

When  woman  could  sway  me. 
When  a  smile  could  raise 

Or  a  frown  dismay  me. 


:-'    ,.    1 


f 


r\  i- 


..■—■' ""  ""♦li?^'r.''^'''''«»-*(**j^»*»"!i^ 


I 


139 

In  vain,  as  of  old, 

Love's  torch  brightly  shineth. 
Or  his  bands  of  gold 

The  little  god  twineth. 
In  vain  pleasure  layeth 

Her  toils  around  me, 
Or  beauty  displayeth 

The  charms  that  once  bounds  me. 

Unheeded  they  kneel, 

And  unheeded  they  warble : 
My  breast  is  of  steel — 

And  my  ears  are  of  marble. 
So, ladies,  goodbye 

To  your  arts  and  wiles  ; 
Little  care  I 

For  your  frowns  or  smiles. 


i..  .^-^WNfc-J*.'***   '  ^. 


140 


MADRIGAL. 


I  WOULD  have  begg'd  of  Love  to  be 

The  bearer  of  my  vows  to  thee, 

But  that  I  fear'd  the  treacherous  elf. 
When  he  had  once  beheld  thine  eyes 

Would  have  forgot  my  tears  and  sighs. 

And  wooed  thee  only  for  himself. 


141 


MADRIGAL. 


Oh  no,  I  will  never  love  more — 
I  swear  as  I've  sworn  before ; — 
Since  vanity,  pride,  caprice 

In  the  most  of  thy  sex  are  met ; 
Since  one  never  could  live  in  peace 

With  a  prude  or  a  pert  coquette  ; 
Oh  no — I  have  argued  it  o'er — 
No,  no,  I  will  never  love  more — 

Any  but  thee,  Lisette. 


142 


TRIOLET. 


TO    THREE    SISTERS. 


f^ 


ai  ■ 


I 


Sister  Graces,  among  you  three 

To  which  shall  I  mv  heart  surrender? 
Little  of  choice  is  left  to  me 
Sister  Graces,  among  you  three — 
Each  has  her  claims — my  love  must  be 

Of  temper  mild,  and  of  soul  most  tender 
Sister  Graces,  among  you  three 

To  which  shall  I  my  heart  surrender  '! 


143 


TRIOLET. 


To  guard  her  flock  and  guard  her  heart 

Is  too  much  for  a  shepherdess ; 
'Tis  no  such  very  easy  part 
To  guard  her  flock  and  guard  her  heart ; 
When  swains  assail  the  one  with  art, 

And  wolves  with  force  the  other  press. 
To  guard  her  flock  and  guard  her  heart 

Is  too  much  for  a  shepherdess. 


m 


144 


i 


[.   , 


I 


EPITAPH 


ON    A    LAWYER. 


Header,  there  sleeps  beneath  this  stone 

A  Lawyer,  and  an  honest  one  ; — 

If  thou  hast  e^er  been  doomM  to  know 

The  plagues  with  which  a  lawsuit's  tainted. 
Draw  near  and  o'er  him  vent  thy  wo  ; 

But  if  perchance  thou'rt  unacquainted, 
Pass  on — pray  heaven  to  keep  thee  so. 


'f» 


145 


* 


EPITAPH 


ON    DR. 


ited. 


Our  Doctor's  gone,  but  ere  he  went 

He  kept  us  in  terrorem, 
And  half  the  neighbourhood  he  sent 

To  clear  the  way  before  him. 


13 


146 


i 


i 


I 


EPITAPH 


ON    A    SCOLD. 


Here  rests  in  death,  thank  God,  my  wife, 
A  thing  she  never  did  in  Hfe  ;      ;  , 
'Twere  needless,  i;eader,  to  repine — 
She  takes  her  ease  and  gives  me  mine. 


147 


EPITAPH 


ON    A    BON-VIVANT. 


On  downy  wings  my  years  flew  on — 
Years  of  pleasure         ' 
And  years  of  whim  ; 

Till  death  vouchsaf'd  to  think  of  one 
Who  never  found  leisure 
To  think  of  him. 


148 


EPIGRAM. 


IN   VINO    VERITAS. 


Truth,  says  the  proverb,  's  in  our  cup — 
And  truth  should  be  the  search  of  youth ; 

So  while  I  quaff  my  nectar  up 
I'm  only  searching  after  truth. 


i     ^m 


149 


EPIGRAM. 


GREECE. 


Greece,  though  in  these  our  latter  ages 
So  vaunted  for  her  learned  schools, 

Could  only  number  seven  sages — 

How  rich  she  must  have  been  in  fools ! 


.   ;i 


13* 


n 


i       jr.. 


I'    I 


150 


EPIGRAM. 


i 
i 


HEART  AND  BODY 


To  a  Lady  who  had  stolen  the  former. 


«, 


.  i 


It  is  not  right  old  friends  to  part, 
And  these  we  well  may  call  so ; 

Then,  Lady,  give  me  back  my  heart. 
Or  take  my  body  also. 


■ 


iJ'    ^ 


i   ~^ 


'^^■^ 


151 


! 


EPIGRAM. 


jENEAS. 


f  1 

1 


\ 


When  he,  the  prince  of  Ilion,  as  we  read, 

Snatch'd  from  the  flames  the  author  of  his  life, 

Heaven  strove  to  recompense  the  generous  deed- 
He  sav'd  his  father,  and  he  lost — his  wife. 


152 


TO  JULIA, 


■: 


Little  Love  in  his  wantonness  playing, 

To  lodge  in  my  breast  was  beguil'd  ; 
And  Venus,  alarm'd  at  his  straying, 

Now  offers  a  kiss  for  her  child. 
Shall  I  give  up  the  boy  ? — will  no  other 

With  an  offer  more  tempting  entice  ? 
Oh  thou  whom  he'd  take  for  his  mother, 

Wilt  thou  buy  him  at  Venus's  price  ? 


«• 

* 


,»rt-«--.^i«».--'^ 


A 


153 


TO  THE  BUTTERFLY. 


^' 


Butterfly  on  wanton  wing 

Round  and  round  inconstant  roving, 
Tasting  all  the  sweets  of  spring, 

Ever  changing,  ever  loving ; 
Little  epicure  in  hliss, 

Still  thou  bear'st  from  flower  to  flower 
Brightest  smile  or  sweetest  kiss, 

As  the  trophy  of  thy  power. 
Who  would  spurn  so  rich  a  trophy  ? 

Who  such  pleasures  could  decry  ? — 
Had  I  never  met  my  Sophy 

I'd  have  been  a  Butterfly, 


A 


->*!«*iBaiMMmiRM 


154 


FORGET  ME  NOT. 


"  Forget  me  not,  although  we  part — 
To  think  thou  wert  untrue       ^  r  ' 

Would  break  the  fond,  confiding  heart, 
Which  only  beats  for  you."     '       f^    ' 

1  -  I  ■ .  *  '  '  ' 

•'  Oh  let  this  dark,  foreboding  fear, 

This  sorrow  be  dismiss'd  ; 
For  see — lest  I  forget  thee,  dear, 

I've  plac'd  thee  on  my  hst." 


—  f 


'  --H»--r-"'' 


155 


TO  MY  LYRE. 


From  thee,  my  lyre— as  one  who  bids  adieu 

To  some  dear  friend  he  ne'er  again  shall  meet ; 
Some  friend,  whose  counsel  kind  and  converse 
sweet 
Had  shed  a  charm  o'er  moments  as  they  flew 

Which  else  had  loiter'd  on  with  leaden  feet — 
From  thee  1  part  for  ever.     Thou  to  me 

Did'st  oft  in  wo  thy  soothing  influence  lend  ; 
Amid  the  wilds  thou  wast  society — 

Among  the  faithless  thou  wast  still  a  friend. 


156 

But  the  world  calls  me  from  thee,  and  we  part, 
And  to  another's  touch  thy  chords  must  swell ; 

No  more  their  tones  shall  vibrate  through  my  heart. 
No  more  my  ear  must  listen  to  their  spell  ;— 

Farewell,  beloved  lyre— for  ever  fare  thee  well. 


t 


^f 


rt. 


